


You and Me (and Darkwing Duck Makes Three)

by eyemeohmy



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, idiots having sex when one is wounded because oh ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 18:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: Drake just couldn't seem to express his gratitude properly; it never felt like enough. He appreciated Launchpad so much he wanted to hug the big lug hard enough Drake snapped him in half--No, wait--





	You and Me (and Darkwing Duck Makes Three)

**Author's Note:**

> Belated birthday gift for my friend, Java.
> 
> This material (re: furries) is definitely out of my realm, and I'm playing with canon as seen in one episode, so if things seem... OOC or wonky, you now know why. Feel free to "uhhhh???" at me in comments. Apologies for any mistakes, grammatical and otherwise.

"You know, I can't tell you just how... grateful I am. For your help."

Launchpad shouldered open the door, holding an armful of bandages, medicinal bottles, tissues, a first aid kit, and a single wrapped lollipop. "It-ah!" Launchpad nearly tripped, juggling peroxide and pills before catching everything again. "It's no problem! I like helping." He smiled dreamily. "Helping _Darkwing Duck_..."

Drake frowned, sitting on a stool beside his vanity center. He'd thrown his hat, mask, and cape over the mirror, the rest of his iconic purple outfit discarded on the ground. He held an ice pack to his black eye, the lids swollen in a squint, numerous cuts and bruises hidden beneath his dirtied plumage. One rather ugly fresh gash across his chest--and in his jacket. "I know," he said, looking and feeling guilty, "but it bears repeating. I couldn't do this--any of this--without your help and support." He just couldn't seem to express his gratitude properly; it never felt like enough. He appreciated Launchpad so much he wanted to hug the big lug hard enough Drake snapped him in half-- _No, wait_ \--

Launchpad blushed. "Well, geez," he tittered, rubbing his neck--and promptly dropping most of the medical items. He scooped them back up, dumped them on the nearby sofa. "Now let's take care of those bad boys! AND girls!"

Drake chuckled. Launchpad poured a ridiculous amount of rubbing alcohol on a cloth--Drake winced but grit his teeth, letting the larger bird place the cloth to his chest wound. Stung like Hell, and Drake hissed.

"Oh!" Launchpad recoiled. "Was that--"

"No, no!" Drake exclaimed, shaking his head. "Ah, no, it--it's just cold, s'all." He scooted forward on the edge of the stool, encouraging Launchpad to continue.

Launchpad grinned crookedly. "Good," he said. He knelt down, face level with Drake's; Drake swallowed, staring. Launchpad was busy working on cleaning the wound, wiping away old crusted blood.

Drake broke from his daze, watched Launchpad; he smiled. Launchpad was clumsy but tender, trying his best. He was rambling about something or other, his job with Scrooge, recent adventures, creatures from black lagoons...

Once Launchpad finished sanitizing the wound (no stitches required, thankfully), he went to applying the bandage--two large bandaides over the cut, held down by a compression wrap around Drake's chest. "There! That outta do it!" Launchpad said, admiring his handiwork. He was used to bandaging himself up--God knows he'd nearly broken every bone in his body at least twice.

Drake adjusted the wrap; it was pinned down a bit too tight. "Thanks, Launchpad," he said. "The painkillers kicked in. My eye feels a little better, too." He pat the half-melted ice pack.

"That's great! And, hey!" Launchpad picked the lollipop up and held it to Drake's face. "For bein' such a good patient." He winked.

Drake blushed, baffled--he laughed, running a hand through his head feathers. "Wow, thanks, doc," he said, taking the candy. Despite himself, he took off the wrapper, placing the lollipop in his mouth. Delicious sugary blueberry. He licked and suckled--just a few seconds until he noticed Launchpad was staring at him, eyes bulging.

Drake bit down on the candy, shattering it.

"Oh!" Launchpad guffawed, snapping back into action. "Lemme--lemme get you an ice pack! For your eye!" He said, laughing and laughing, unaware Drake already had an ice pack, turning to the kitchenette--

Drake suddenly grabbed Launchpad by the wrist, stopping him. Launchpad went ramrod straight, neck cracking as he looked back at Drake. Drake had the same baffled, awed look on his face, but there was an undeniable twinkle in his eyes (well, good eye) that Launchpad instantly recognized.

Usually he was the one who made that look; gave it to so many beautiful people, the women he'd fallen for. Love, adoration--desperation for something much more... intimate.

Well. This was Darkwing Duck. Launchpad certainly wasn't going to turn him down.

Drake knew this was bad. Not because doing this might put a strain on their friendship, no. Worries like that could come later, if at all. Rather, this would put a strain on his wounds; even if the painkillers still left him with some aches and pains, he was willing and excited. He easily slipped into Launchpad's arms, diving in to meet him in a kiss. Their beaks hit one another hard enough for their heads to both bounce back.

Launchpad laughed, and Drake did, too.

Second attempt was more successful, but no less needy and heavy. Drake couldn't remember the last time he kissed someone like this. Sure, he had shared many-a smooches with his on-screen lovers, but none of them were real; just acting, no substance, no feelings. And like the first fight Drake had as Darkwing Duck, this was very real, a little scary, and nearly made his heart beat out of his chest.

Fortunately Launchpad was less distracted. Later, Drake would wonder why Launchpad hadn't fainted the moment their bills met. Maybe now that he'd gotten close, gotten to know the duck behind the mask, the shock and awe had worn off. Drake knew he wasn't the brightest (he'd become a _vigilante_ , for God's sake), but he knew it had nothing to do with not living up to Launchpad's dreams and expectations of his idol. It wasn't because he was lesser to the "real" Darkwing; this was no longer hero-worship. It was love built on mutual respect and good chemistry. 

Drake wasn't a god, but an equal.

Drake chuckled to himself, breaking the kiss to nuzzle cheek to cheek with Launchpad. Launchpad beamed, happily cuddling back. He carried the small duck, bridal style, to his bedroom. Sofa was cluttered, too small. Probably wouldn't help Drake's sore bones, either. Neither spoke, preening and cooing.

Launchpad laid Drake out on the bed, standing up to undress. Drake watched, bill clenched shut. The feathers down his back were ruffled, tail giving a few exhilarated little wags. Launchpad opened his mouth but Drake quickly pulled out the dresser drawer by the bed, producing a bottle of lubricant. He wordlessly held it out to Launchpad, that deer-in-the-headlights "please hurry up oh my God" look on his face.

"Score!" Launchpad cheered. He paused, scratching under his long bill. "Uhh... You gonna be comfortable like that? You wanna switch positions?"

Drake ignored the sting from his chest wound as he reached out, grabbed a handful of Launchpad's chest plumage. "Ask me after foreplay," he said, yanking the larger bird on top of him. Launchpad quickly adjusted so as not to apply too much pressure on the--he grunted as Drake devoured him in another kiss, fingers digging into his back.

Launchpad ran his hands down Drake's sides, stopping at his hips to knead. Drake moaned into his mouth, rising into the touch. Launchpad looked up, trying to keep pace with Drake's kissing as he opened the bottle. Squeezed--

“Sorry!" Launchpad exclaimed, sitting back. A large dollop of lube soaked into Drake's chest wrap.

Drake blinked, then chuckled. "It's cool, it’s cool. Feels nice, actually."

Launchpad sighed. "Oh, good..."

The two stared at each other. A beat. Drake once more took initiative, lightly scratching at Launchpad's hips. Launchpad twitched, squeezed the bottle again--fortunately it got all over his hand this time. The lube warmed between his fingers. He glanced down at Drake--even with his swollen black eye, the cut on his bill, he was breathtaking.

Launchpad cupped Drake's cheek, thumbing the feathers. Drake hummed, closed his eyes; he held Launchpad's hand, cuddled against his palm, then slowly moved the thumb into his mouth, sucking lightly, just like the lollip--

"Ah!" Drake winced as he was suddenly pushed back, a hand to his thigh, spreading him. He felt Launchpad's other hand, wet with lube, slide beneath his feathers-- "S-Sh--shoot!" he gasped, clutching Launchpad as the fingers found his entrance, one entering slowly.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay? If you want me to stop, I'll stop, really, I don't mind, I mean, this probably hurts, ri--"

Drake gently slapped his hands on Launchpad's cheeks, holding his face. "It feels... just fine," he wheezed, squirming on the larger bird's finger. He whimpered, breathing picking up. Drake rocked back and forth on the probing digit, slowly working inch by inch. 

Launchpad was frozen, fully consumed by Drake's face, twisted in pleasure, trembling, webbed feet kicking at the bed.

"La... Launchpad," Drake croaked, eyes glazed. He groped blindly at his partner, clenching down on the finger.

"Yeah... yeah," Launchpad gulped, wiping his brow. He bowed down to kiss Drake again, his groans vibrating through his bill. Drake arched painfully off the bed, grinding himself against the larger bird’s body. His erection visible between tousled feathers.

Drake broke the kiss, lying back. "Like t-this," he choked, yanking over another pillow. Launchpad instantly understood, sliding it beneath Drake, angling his bottom half higher. Much more easier on the sore duck.

With just a little extra stretching, Launchpad finally pulled out. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" Launchpad insisted.

"Yes," Drake whispered, quivering, "y-yes, I will."

Launchpad took Drake by the thighs, spreading his legs wide. He tilted him back, hole exposed. Both swallowed loudly. With some extra coating on his cock, Launchpad positioned himself, cautiously pressing just the tip of his head inside Drake. Drake gasped and spasmed, but held on. Launchpad continued testing, stopping once half of him was inside.

Drake's voice was scratchy and drunk. "M-Move, p... please."

Oh! Right! Launchpad chuckled, and so did Drake, and then Launchpad thrust and Drake choked on a small cry like a squeaky toy. He inhaled, teeth grinding. Launchpad pulled out, just a bit, thrust in again--more gently this time. 

Drake sighed with pleasure, sinking back into the pillows, eyes lidded.

"I bet you're really likin' this, DW," Launchpad smirked, smug. Drake clenched around his cock, and Launchpad nearly fell on top of him.

The speed picked up. The bed, simple and old, rattled and shook. Headboard banging against his apartment wall (fortunately with no one on the other side). Drake whimpered and mewled, squeezing tight to Launchpad in his embrace. "Laun... LP..." he croaked.

Launchpad beamed, preening Drake's head feathers with his bill. The first time Drake called him LP, he promptly and predictably fainted. Drake had been training lately and was able to swiftly side-step him, avoiding the collapsing sack of meat and bricks. Drake had laughed and squatted, patting Launchpad's back in comfort. In the here and now, Launchpad found himself rubbing and stroking Drake in similar fashion.

"You feel... so good..." Drake moaned, licking the drool from his bill. "I could just ride your cock all day and never sleep."

Launchpad blinked.

Drake blinked, then quietly grumbled. "S-Sorry. Bad filter."

Launchpad leaned down and kissed him. "Nah, I get ya," he reassured, "and when you're all better, you can ride me like a cow girl! Let's get yeehaw!"

Drake's cheeks burned, turning his feathers crimson. Then Launchpad was increasing the speed, and Drake was crying out, pawing at the bed, at Launchpad's arms, chest. Beak openly panting, tears in his lashes--kinda hurt for the bruised one. His eyes rolled back into his head as he wriggled, twisted on Launchpad's cock.

Finally, with one last hard thrust to his prostate, Drake came with a snarl fitting of Darkwing Duck. Launchpad held him through it; once his body stop trembling, Drake flopped back onto the bed. "I'm... surprised m'self... thought was gonna say les get dangerous..." Drake slurred, dizzy and panting and twitching.

Launchpad kissed his forehead. "Next time." He looked down at his cock still buried inside Drake, little beads of hot cum spotting the bed. "You want me to pull out? I can--"

"No!" Drake gasped, raising a hand. "No, no, please... keep going. I've still got some stamina left." He winked tiredly, though it was rather awkward given his one purple, squinting eye.

Launchpad grinned, unfazed. "That's my DW!"


End file.
